


All I Want For Yuletide

by lily_winterwood



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, Finals are terrible, Modern Middle Earth, Modern Royalty, Women's College, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_winterwood/pseuds/lily_winterwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billie Baggins gets a reward from her girlfriend for finishing her final papers. (Modern Middle-earth, Women's College AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Yuletide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/gifts).



> This takes place in a larger AU that I'm hoping to write for the Hobbit Big Bang this year. Underhill College is actually very heavily based off of my own school (including the princesses. Yes there are princesses at my school. I don't know who they are though or if any are on the rugby team), and I thought it'd be an interesting twist to the usual College/Uni AU by setting it at a women's college, where the atmosphere is quite different from co-ed schools. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to my beta readers Dis and Eli (I'm pretty sure it's you two, I'm actually kinda shit at names) for catching my mistakes!

****The night after Billie Baggins turns in her _final_ final paper for the fall semester of her second year at Underhill College, she sits back in her room and stares out at the snow falling softly against her window, and sighs.

Her roommate and friend Primula Brandybuck is still at the science centre finishing up an examination, so Billie has the room to herself. The soft glow of the fairy lights in the room only highlights the darkness outside and the flurries of white falling past, and Billie is gladder than ever that her room is so well-heated.

Moments after making a status on her social media about having finally finished her last paper, Billie hears a notification from her mobile, and leans over onto her bed to check who it’s from.

It’s Thorís Durin, her girlfriend of less than a year:

**Congratulations on finishing your last paper. Come by to celebrate? ;)**

Billie smiles a little at the text, feeling that familiar fluttering in her chest that she feels every time she sees Thorís around campus. Has it really been mere _months_ since Billie finally came to the realisation that she did actually fancy girls, and did, in fact, return Thorís’ feelings for her? Somehow it feels natural, almost as if she had been born to fall in love with Thorís Durin. Like all those years she'd spent pretending to be exclusively attracted to men and denying what she felt for women were part of some strange past nightmare that she had woken up from and mostly forgotten.

Billie grabs her keys and throws on a jumper over her pyjamas. Finals has done a number on her hygiene, as there really is no point in attempting to look good while holed up in her room or the Adamanta Chubb Library trying to finish her papers. It’s not the first time she’s cursed her decision to major in Literature. Having a concrete examination that she could just study for and get it all over with feels somehow more relaxing when facing four term papers.

She leaves her room and heads down the hall, skirting past the entry hall and table and climbing a short flight of stairs to room 118 in White Tower West. This has been Thorís’ room since her first year, and was very aptly named the Princess Suite. While it had been built for a princess of Gondor when she studied at Underhill, the suite since then has been given to numerous House Presidents, as well as the Lady Úndomiel, and now is the residence of Princess Thorís Durin II of Erebor for the duration of her education at Underhill.

Billie’s still trying to wrap her head around it.

Thorís greets Billie at her knock, her dark hair falling wild and unbraided into her face. Billie is fairly sure she’ll never get enough of how gorgeous Thorís is, beard and all. She’d never thought that she would find women sexy, let alone a Dwarrow woman, as their standards of beauty were a far cry from what Billie was used to in the Shire. But here they are, and Thorís is pulling her into the room and kissing her as soon as the door is closed, and Billie is fairly sure she’s melting.

“I can’t believe you’d kiss me even after I’ve gone a week without showering,” Billie mumbles after they pull apart. Thorís rolls her eyes at that, putting her hands on her hips.

“Do you really think that smelling bad is going to drive me away, Billie?” she asks, though in jest her nose wrinkles, and Billie giggles helplessly, stumbling down the little hallway of the suite into Thorís’ spacious room. The curtains are drawn and only the lanterns are lit, giving the room a dim, romantic feel.

Less romantic, of course, are the piles and piles of notes and books, and Thorís’ laptop, that are scattered over the unmade bed, the desk, and the rug, but Thorís is already taking care of that. Billie tugs at her jumper, standing uncertainly in the centre of the room before Thorís suggests she take a seat on the sofa across from the bed.

“Do you have plans for after finals?” she asks after a moment, hoping against hope that perhaps Thorís hadn’t solidified anything yet. After all, she had been open to spending Harvest Break at Billie’s house in Bag End, Hobbiton, and that had been a completely last-minute change of plans for her, as her family had wanted to meet with her in the Ered Luin for a theatre festival that weekend. Being royal surely had some privileges like that.

Thorís nods. “I’m going home. I can’t miss Iklaladranamrâg,” she says. “There’s so many things to do during the festival period. I’ll be completely tied up until the festivities end.”

“So you can’t get out of this one,” Billie remarks, trying to ignore the sting of sadness inside her at the idea of celebrating her first Yuletide with Thorís as her girlfriend _without_ said girlfriend in question. Wasn’t the entire point of Yule to cosy up in front of the log with your beloved and kiss them under boughs of mistletoe and holly? Billie has never had the opportunity to spend Yule with a significant other, and now that she was in her first really serious relationship, the idea of having to miss doing these traditions with Thorís rather pained her.

Thorís’ voice breaks through her reverie. “I’ve missed months and months of duties,” the princess says with a hum, finally clearing her laptop from her bed and plopping down on it, crossing her legs. “Well, I can’t say I _miss_ them _personally_ , but…” She trails off, shrugging.

“What are you supposed to do for… Icky whatsitsface anyway?”

“Iklaladranamrâg?” asks Thorís with a laugh. “It’s a midwinter festival. There’s a candlelight vigil for the people who fell in battles past, and a televised candle lighting ceremony on the palace’s front terrace, and then there’s a big supper with the Prime Minister, and lastly there’s the Winter Ball. It’s all dreadfully boring, except maybe the ball, if you like dancing and opera.”

“Yule at my place is much simpler,” replies Billie. “We burn a Yule log and overstuff ourselves with feasting, and we hang wreaths and decorate trees, and we make a bunch of toasts to everything and go door-to-door wassailing all the neighbours. I would’ve liked to do it with you someday.”

Thorís smiles a little at that. “Are you trying to tempt me from neglecting my duties?”

Billie snorts. “I would never do something so mean,” she replies.

“I must say, you’re doing a good job of it,” says Thorís, winding a curl of dark hair around her finger. Billie watches her, half-breathless as her eyes travel up from the finger to Thorís’ dark lashes and suggestively-bitten lip. She swallows.

“Can I use your bathtub?” she asks. Thorís arches an eyebrow. “Like I said, I haven’t showered in a week and I’d really like to change that.”

Thorís nods. “Help yourself,” she says with a shrug. “I could try to get some more writing done before you come distract me again.”

“You’re the one who invited me.”

“I know. But you’re always distracting.”

* * *

Billie is fairly certain she’ll never get used to the notion of having one’s own bathroom at Underhill, but apparently that’s part and parcel with the Princess Suite. Cleaning it, of course, is a different story, but judging by the impeccable cleanliness of the place, Thorís has had hired help.

Billie wraps herself in the bathrobe hanging on a hook by the door and looks at herself in the mirror. She feels cleaner now and she smells like Thorís’ soap and shampoo, and the combination of the scents and the softness of Thorís’ bathrobe is simply heavenly. If she doesn’t leave the room, she might end up falling asleep in the robe. Not that that would be a bad thing, of course, but she does have a girlfriend waiting out in the room beyond.

Thorís looks up from her laptop when Billie enters, perking up and removing her glasses as she does, and Billie swallows as Thorís moves the laptop back to the desk and slides off the bed to walk towards her. Her girlfriend might be dressed down in her pyjamas, but she moves with a confidence that sends warmth fluttering through Billie’s body to pool between her legs.

“Do you feel better?” asks Thorís when she finally reaches Billie, and Billie responds with a nod before leaning up to kiss her again.

“More like an actual being again,” she says when they part, and Thorís chuckles at that, swooping down to steal another kiss. Billie sighs into it, pressing herself closer when they part and grinning when she feels Thorís’ hands come to rest on her bum and squeeze.

“May I?” Thorís rumbles. Billie nods, and then she’s being swept up and deposited on Thorís’ bed — which Billie is fairly certain is a bit too big and soft to be standard issue and is no doubt the result of more string-pulling by the Ereborean Royal Family — and she shouldn’t have been so surprised at her girlfriend’s strength, as Thorís _is_ on the rugby team, after all. Billie has gone to several practices and matches and knows full well that most of her girlfriend’s bulk is muscle. Not that she’s averse to softening up her princess over the holidays of course; the first step is to get Thorís to come with her to Bag End for Yule.

All these thoughts and machinations fly out of her head when Thorís undoes the tie on the robe and opens it, baring Billie to her hungry gaze. Billie can’t help but moan at the look on her girlfriend’s face; Thorís’ intent blue stare is downright filthy and she hasn’t even _touched_ Billie’s skin yet.

“Every day I thank Mahal for granting me enough patience to wait for you,” murmurs Thorís as she settles in between Billie’s legs, before leaning down to press kisses to the tops of her breasts, leaving feather-light tingles in her wake that only causes more warmth coursing through Billie’s body. A gentle laving of Thorís’ tongue against a rosy nipple leaves them pebbled with need, and Billie sighs when Thorís then takes her nipple into her mouth fully, sucking gently on each before pressing more kisses down the line of her sternum.

“If I’d known you could kiss like this, I wouldn’t have questioned myself for so long,” Billie murmurs, her voice getting steadily more breathless as Thorís’ mouth moves downwards from her breasts, across the soft expanse of her stomach and to the thatch of golden curls at the apex of her legs. “Please, don’t stop — _oh_!”

She’s never felt this pleasured, this needed, or this loved. Thorís lavishes attention on her almost reverently, her tongue circling Billie’s clit before diving into her folds, dexterously tracing patterns against Billie’s overheated wetness. Billie can only grab onto Thorís’ hair, her hips arching up to meet Thorís’ mouth, her mind transforming any eloquent sentences she might have had into strings of curses and moans.

“You’re so wet,” murmurs Thorís when she pulls her face away, her lips and beard shiny with Billie’s juices. Billie makes a half-strangled moan, which Thorís, confound her, chuckles at. “Is that your brain recovering from finals, or are you pleased to see me?”

Billie bucks her hips, insisting Thorís resume her actions, and to her delight the princess acquiesces, sucking and kissing at Billie’s clit before tracing her hole with her tongue. “D-do they teach you this in f-finishing school?” Billie manages to gasp as Thorís’ tongue slides into her, before crying aloud and trying to squeeze her legs together around the sides of Thorís’ head. Of course Thorís can’t answer her in this state, and Billie doesn’t care for an answer, really; she just needs more of Thorís’ tongue, and her lips, and yes — _yes_ , even her fingers, thick and lovely and filling Billie up, crooking inside her and rubbing against that sweet spot until she sees stars bursting in her vision. Thorís drives her wild with her single-minded determination to please her, with her beard causing the strangest yet somehow most wonderful texture against Billie’s legs, her tongue moving against Billie’s clit with wonderous dexterity — and it soon becomes too much for Billie to take and she releases, her walls shuddering sweetly against Thorís’ fingers as she comes.

“Never went to one, so I wouldn’t know,” replies Thorís blithely when she comes up after that, and this time Billie tastes herself in her girlfriend’s mouth and on her fingers. She shivers, especially as Thorís sits back up and pulls her shirt over her head, baring her tanned breasts to Billie’s gaze, and then shifts back to discard her shorts and knickers in another swift motion.

Billie moves her arms out of the sleeves of the robe, and shifts backwards onto the bed until she is pressed against the wall, and Thorís is pressed against her, equally hot and wanting. The touch of Thoris’ bare body against hers sparks another flame in Billie’s stomach; she’s fairly certain she’ll never get used to the feeling of Thorís’ skin under her fingertips.

Thorís kisses her again, open-mouthed and devouring, her breasts pressing against Billie’s and her legs straddling Billie’s own. Her hands press to either side of Billie’s head, boxing her in, and if this is prison, it’s a prison Billie never wants to leave. As she kisses Thorís back, her own hand snakes down between them, and slips a finger between Thoris’ folds.

Thorís’ moan fills Billie’s ear as she arches forward, pressing them even closer, and, encouraged, Billie presses on, wanting to return the favour, wanting to convince Thorís that it really would be nice to go to Bag End with her this Yule, as then they could do nothing but this as often as they like. No presses, no photographers, no duties and rules. Just them and the joy of being together in a warm room while the snow falls gently outside.

“Billie, I —” Thorís’ sentence is cut short with a cry and Billie almost comes again at the feeling of her girlfriend convulsing around her, her juices slicking Billie’s fingers. Slowly, she withdraws her fingers — Thorís actually _whimpers_ at that, and damn if that doesn’t make Billie feel warm inside — and slowly licks them, savouring Thorís’ taste in her mouth with a soft hum.

“Are you so sure you want to go back to Erebor?” she asks after a moment, looking up at Thorís through her lashes, and the Dwarrow princess actually seems _sheepish_ , her cheeks glowing bright red as she bites her lower lip. It makes Billie want to pull her closer, and she does.

“You have an uncanny way of making me question my commitments,” Thorís rumbles after a moment, pressing a kiss to Billie’s forehead.

“Please come home with me?” Billie asks.

Thorís chuckles. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

On the last day of finals, Billie Baggins is mildly surprised and mostly pleased when she goes to answer the knock at her door and finds Thorís Durin standing there, bundled in her coat and scarf with two suitcases behind her.

“I cancelled my flight and got a ticket to Hobbiton,” says the princess, and Billie can’t help the grin that splits her face at the news. “We can’t make this a regular occurrence, you hear that? The press doesn’t know about you yet, and I’d prefer they keep it that way.”

“Maybe next year I’ll go celebrate Icky whatsitsface with you.” replies Billie sweetly.

Thorís wrinkles her nose. “It’s _Iklaladranamrâg_ , Billie,” she groans. “If you’re going to date the third in line to the throne of Erebor, you might as well say it right.”

“You know I only do it to annoy you,” says Billie, and leans in for a kiss.

This Yuletide is going to be sweet indeed.

 

 


End file.
